


with a velvet tongue

by saturatedsinset



Category: All Elite Wrestling, Professional Wrestling, 新日本プロレス | New Japan Pro-Wrestling
Genre: Aftercare, Anxiety, Kenny is so needy he has to have a whole team of tops, Kink Negotiation, M/M, Rough Oral Sex, Subspace, the Bucks are bad friends
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-13
Updated: 2019-11-13
Packaged: 2021-01-30 05:57:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,213
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21423316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saturatedsinset/pseuds/saturatedsinset
Summary: When Kenny gets like this, he tugs at other people's threads, too. He can't help it, just wants someone to feel a tenth as restless as him, and it's like a game to see how far he can push before someone breaks. He knows his friends well enough to know that one of them will snap.He doesn't expect it to be Moxley.
Relationships: Dean Ambrose | Jon Moxley/Kenny Omega, Ibushi Kota/Kenny Omega
Comments: 19
Kudos: 149





	with a velvet tongue

**Author's Note:**

> this is the first time I've written creatively in about five years and the first time I've written wrestling fic in ever, so please be nice to me - that said, thanks to Enj for bullying me into writing this and helping edit it and to Kenny Omega for being so relentlessly horny. if you want to yell at me about wrestling, you can talk to me on [tumblr](https://saturatedsinset.tumblr.com/)
> 
> title from "Holy" by King Princess

Kenny's unravelling, he knows. He can feel it in everything, the way he can't stop moving, the restlessness working itself into his bones, his desperate clinging to anything that could be an anchor, the feeling of solid ground slipping away beneath him. He knows.

He knows himself well enough by now to know that this happens sometimes, can stave off the worst of it until he has something (someone) to help.

But. Well. That's the problem, isn't it? Kenny can feel himself coming apart at the seams and the only person who can pick up the mess in his head and put him back together is half a world away, busy with his own shit.

So Kenny's left to unravel.

It's not as if he's never had to deal with it on his own, obviously, but. He'd promised not to do anything excessively stupid, and when he's breaking like this, when it's building up like this, he knows what stupid looks like. How it leaves him. Unfortunately, it means he's stuck between knowing what he needs and having no way to get it, and he's left to tug at the threads.

When Kenny gets like this, he tugs at other people's threads, too. He can't help it, just wants someone to feel a tenth as restless as him, and it's like a game to see how far he can push before someone breaks. He knows his friends well enough to know that one of them will snap.

He doesn't expect it to be Moxley.

From the looks of it, neither does Moxley. Kenny's been getting at him all week, needling and prodding, and the most reaction he's got from him so far - aside from the whole coffee table thing - is a beleaguered sigh and Mox leaving the room.

It's not even words that do it. Kenny thinks maybe he shouldn't be surprised by that, but. What tips Mox over the edge is a wordless shove from Kenny, joking-but-not-really, as they pass each other in a hallway.

Moxley goes rigid for a moment and then shoves Kenny back, against the wall, an arm braced across his shoulders so he can't get away easily.

"I don't know what the fuck it is, Omega," Mox mutters, half-growling, "but you need to get it out of your system before you drive the rest of us insane."

He hasn't even finished the sentence before his expression changes, exasperation to surprise to something Kenny can't quite place. Apprehension, he'd call it, if Mox had a reason to be apprehensive.

Kenny opens his mouth to say - he doesn't know, actually, but he doesn't have to, because Moxley's already gone.

*

He forgets about it, mostly, except the part of him that can't help but think about every time he gets pinned, and the part that can't help but think about every time he gets pinned down, and somehow he can't decide which it was. It's fine. He's - well.

He forgets about it until a few nights later, too-close quarters again, too far away from solid ground, when Moxley approaches him, that same strange apprehension on his face now mixed with an equally strange determination.

"Uh, hi?" Kenny tries, waving a hand in front of Moxley's face while Moxley studies him as if he's on an operating table. The scrutiny just makes him more aware of how scattered he is. "Can I help you?"

"We need to talk. Later." Moxley sounds... nervous? It doesn't make sense, sets Kenny's head spinning with possibilities of Mox killing him or suing him or - "Jesus, no, not like that," Mox mutters, and. Kenny hadn't said that stuff out loud, he's still attached to himself enough to know that much, and is it really  _ that _ obvious?

Mox is already rolling his eyes. "Just. Come to my room later, okay?"

It's worded like a question, but Mox's tone says otherwise, his iron will under the statement brooking no argument. Kenny finds himself nodding before he decides to agree.

"Um. Okay. Later."

"Good." It's short, clipped, and so is the curt nod he gets before Mox is gone again and Kenny's left reeling. They need to talk? In Moxley's room? Neither of them have done anything unusual, except Kenny being a nuisance, and. Is that really a reason to call someone to your room?

Kenny shakes his head. He doesn't know, hadn't thought Mox was one to put off confrontation, but it feels insane to think Mox is dragging him over for a quiet chat.

When Nick comes in to look for him a few minutes later, he's still perching against the dressing room counter, hands wrapped white-knuckle tight around its edges. It's too much. It's becoming too much.

*

It's later. Kenny's put it off for a little, but the anxious curiosity about what Mox wants had ended up outweighing the desire to run away from anything. He knocks on the door of the hotel room before he can talk himself out of it and hardly has time to start nervously pacing before Mox opens the door and immediately looks. Relieved?

Kenny has no fucking clue what's going on.

"I thought you might not come," Mox says in response to Kenny's unasked question.

"You've got me worried," Kenny replies as he steps inside, wary.

Mox nods. "Yeah, Kenny, that's kind of it." He gestures for Kenny to sit on the bed, and Kenny complies. "I've got you."

Kenny blinks. "What?"

"I've got you. I - look, I'm not an idiot, I've seen how you are. Everyone has." Mox stands in front of him, his hands on Kenny's shoulders like he's holding him together. Kenny breathes out without thinking.

There's a quiet rumble of laughter from Mox and Kenny realises he'd closed his eyes as well. He opens them to see Mox shaking his head. "See? You need it. You need someone to take you out of your head for a while."

Kenny blinks again, his mouth suddenly dry. This is not what he expected a talk with Moxley would look like. "Um," he manages, after a moment. "Excuse me?"

Mox rubs his temples for a moment, looks like he's trying to find the words. The ones he chooses hit Kenny like a tonne of bricks.

"You need to be taken out of your head," he repeats, and then: "I spoke to Ibushi."

Kenny's gasp is involuntary, the wince from impact on a half-healed wound. "What?"

"Kenny..." Mox sighs. "I talked to him. About you. Because you're about to go off the deep end and he knows how to help."

"He can't help," Kenny replies, clipped. That's half the problem. Kota can't help.

"I know. I can."

"You - what?"

"That was why I talked to him, Kenny. I can see what you need. I wasn't going to go behind his back to give it to you." The unspoken  _ and you wouldn’t go behind his back to get it _ hangs in the air for a moment.

The momentary quiet lets Kenny regain a little bit of his bravado, sit up a little bit straighter, ignore the storm of  _ how is he is he okay how did he sound _ in his head. "What do I need, then?"

"No, Kenny, what the fuck, we're gonna talk first."

Right. Of course. Mox talked to Kota, and Kota made him - both of them, probably - promise not to do anything stupid, and now Kenny's going to have to  _ talk _ about what he needs instead of just letting Moxley shove him into the mattress and fuck him till he cries, which. That's not something he's thought about Mox before.

It's. Not unpleasant.

"So," Kenny tries. "Talk to me."

Mox nods, sits down next to Kenny awkwardly, like neither of them knows how to start.

"Ibushi said... it's like being beaten. For you. But you want to fight and lose." This time it's not phrased as a question, but Mox is hesitant, almost gentle. Kenny's surprised for a moment.

"Yeah. Um. I just need to. Not have control sometimes." Kenny swallows. "I need to have control, um, taken from me."

"And?" The same gentleness, again, like Mox is finding where to push.

"And. I don't know. Whatever you want." Kenny hates this part, explaining what he needs. It feels shameful, dirty, no matter how many times Kota tells him it isn't. He feels the bright flush on his face as he mumbles, "I need to be good."

Moxley's quiet for a moment, but doesn't leave Kenny to retreat into his head, just wraps a gentle hand around his wrist. When Kenny looks over, Mox is nodding slowly, thoughtful.

"You need to be put in your place," he muses, and is apparently entirely oblivious to Kenny's sharp intake of breath as he continues. "Tell me how."

That denotes the start of something. Kenny can feel it before his head catches up: Mox is taking control, settling the ground Kenny stands on, replacing Kenny's volatility with stable sureness.

He isn't sure how obvious his sigh of relief is.

"Tell me what to do," Kenny says slowly, closing his eyes against the embarrassment of saying all this aloud. "Um. Make it impossible for me to do it. Punish me for being bad. I'm sure Kota told you..." he trails off, doesn't want to admit to the pleading in his voice.

"He did," Mox says, gentleness replaced by grounded confidence, and god, he's already making Kenny squirm. He wonders if Kota told him what it does to Kenny to be talked about. Mox lets go of Kenny's wrist, stands slowly, looking him over, and Kenny can feel himself shrinking under the scrutiny. Mox hasn't told him to stay still, but he feels like he's transgressing anyway when he fidgets, runs a hand through his hair and shifts a little to make himself comfortable.

"He said you're good at following orders." Moxley's voice is behind him, now, sends a shiver down his spine. He straightens and lets himself be proud.

"I am," he says, quiet but certain. He's good at this. He knows it.

Mox tuts and runs a hand through Kenny's hair, tugging just enough to make Kenny turn his head. Meet his eyes. "I'm not sure," Mox murmurs. "Never seen you do as you're told before. You're gonna have to show me."

Kenny actually whimpers at that, a tiny sound half-caught in his throat, his hips shifting a little and fuck, he's already hard. Moxley's grinning as he comes back around to stand in front of Kenny again. His eyes rake over Kenny as he leans in and then - and then Kenny's kissing Jon Moxley.

It's not something he'd ever expected to do, but the reason Kenny finds himself surprised is that it's so unlike Mox in the ring, less frenetic energy and more slow, controlled guidance. Moxley's hand tugs at the short curls at the back of Kenny's neck, keeping him grounded as Mox coaxes him to open up, measured and sure and taking as Kenny gives. It's quiet and calm and not quite enough, leaves Kenny to grab at Moxley's side and try to pull him closer, deepen the kiss.

Kenny really is dying for it, he realises, when he can't quite hold back the high, desperate whine that comes when Mox pulls away. The grin on Mox's face is dangerous, sharp around the edges.

"No," Mox says, thoughtful. "You haven't earned that yet."

Kenny hears himself whisper, " _ please _ ," before he knows he's ready to beg.

Mox shakes his head. "You don't even know what you're asking for, do you?" He pauses, looks Kenny over. "That's dangerous. Get up."

It takes a moment for Kenny to process what he's been told, still reeling a little from the kiss and the sudden loss of contact. He stands, unsteady on his feet.

"Good," Mox murmurs, brushing a gentle thumb over Kenny's cheek before he presses another kiss to his lips, quick and soft, like it's a reward.

The rush of pride is so intense Kenny feels like he might burst.

Mox must notice, because there's the same soft rumble of laughter. "You're so easy, Omega," he says quietly. "I'm gonna make you cry for it. Get naked."

This time, Kenny's quick to comply, Mox's words sending a jolt down his spine and reminding him that shit, yeah, he's  _ painfully _ hard. He tosses his clothes aside carelessly, any bashfulness forgotten in his rush to obey despite his constant awareness of Moxley's eyes on him.

When Kenny looks up again, the mirth is gone from Mox's face, replaced with quiet, fierce intensity. He waits long enough to speak that Kenny wonders if he expects something from him.

"So easy," Mox repeats, and Kenny knows, he  _ knows _ , but Mox isn't saying it like it's something Kenny should be ashamed of and somehow it's okay, if Mox doesn't mind. "Kneel on the bed, love, against the headboard. Face that way." He points at the wall opposite the bed, and Kenny doesn't even move the pillows in his rush to do as he's told.

Mox helps guide him, strong hands on his arms, moving him how he wants, and Kenny thinks he could do this forever, move himself how Mox wants him.

"Hold onto the headboard," Mox instructs. Kenny starts to turn to face the headboard, but stops when Mox tuts. Kenny makes a small confused sound, frozen in place. "Facing this way, Kenny. Hands behind you."

Kenny swallows, blinking slowly, buys himself enough time to process Mox's instructions and reach behind himself to hold onto the slats of the headboard. The stretch isn't painful, yet, but it puts enough stress between his shoulders that he can feel the potential for pain.

None of it matters, though, because Mox nods approvingly and murmurs, "Good," and that's. Everything.

As Kenny opens his mouth to speak, Mox cuts him off. "You're already dripping," he says, tone torn between surprise and scorn. "'m gonna touch you, yeah?"

Kenny's nod is frantic, desperate, and then Mox brushes a thumb over the head of Kenny's cock to collect the precome that, fuck, really is starting to drip.

Kenny hears himself whine, the sound torn from him at the sudden barely-there contact after so much nothing, and then Mox's thumb is pressed to his mouth and Kenny can't help but lick his own precome from Mox's hand. The gesture makes him feel even more exposed, even more desperate, and he knows Mox can see it on his face.

"Fuck," Kenny whimpers, hips canting forward, but it's not enough and Mox is just watching him crack.

Mox sits on the bed, close but not close enough for Kenny to touch. He tilts his head, considering, like he's assessing Kenny, and then shuffles a little closer and tilts Kenny's chin up.

"If you need to stop, tell me," he says softly. "If you let go of the headboard, that's telling me you need to stop. Okay?"

"Okay," Kenny whispers, nodding. "'I understand."

Mox strokes his hair with a small smile, apparently satisfied, and then the contact is gone and he's once again beyond his reach.

"I wonder how long I could keep you like this," Mox muses, and Kenny can feel his sharp eyes on him, watching him swallow hard. "Not long, I don't think. Ibushi says you can be too impatient to be good sometimes."

" _ No _ ." Kenny's voice is broken, torn from his throat by the desperate need to be good, to  _ show _ Mox he can be good, can't even think that Kota might have told him he was  _ bad _ . He feels himself flush, half-aware of the fact that they've barely started, but he doesn't care. "I'll stay. I'll stay."

The wicked grin on Mox's face is dangerous, and Kenny can't help but lean forward, seeking contact, but Mox is resolute. "See?" he murmurs. "Impatient. You haven't earned that yet."

Kenny's briefly grateful for Mox placing his hands on the headboard as he manages to pull himself up a little, try to show he can be good and patient instead of overeager.

"Much better," Mox says, approving, and Kenny knows he can be good. He can show Mox he's good. "I don't know how nobody's done this yet. Sit you down and make you behave. Shut you up for once."

Kenny whines, because. He doesn't know either, but it's so much - worse, so much  _ more _ that apparently Mox has noticed before today, before the hallway, before he  _ called Kota _ , and. God, Kenny doesn't know how to keep himself in check if he thinks about that, has to close his eyes and put himself in Mox's hands with whatever Kota gave him.

"Just need someone to put you in your place," Mox murmurs, and then his fingers are gentle on Kenny's chin, tilting his face up like it's an invitation to speak.

"Yes," Kenny whispers, voice already raw, opens his eyes to see Mox, quiet and intense, studying him. "Please. Please, Mox."

"What are you asking for, Kenny?" His cadence is so reminiscent of Kota, gentle and chiding, and Kenny can almost picture him the last time they did this. (Kota's thighs bracketing his waist, his weight grounding Kenny, leaning over him with a faint smile as he says  _ please what, angel? _ soft and assured.)

"More," he whines. "Anything, please."

"I think you know what you want." Mox pulls his hand back, leaving Kenny to groan, less at the loss of contact and more at the amused scorn in Mox's tone. "You want me to hold you down, maybe. Ibushi said you love that. Hold you down and fuck you till you cry."

Kenny can't help the moan, tiny and choked-off and deafening in the quiet of the room. Kota - Kota told Mox to - Kenny can feel his cock twitch, can't think about Kota telling Mox how to take him apart or he knows he'll cry, or come, or maybe both.

"Yes," he manages, can't stop himself from straining forward again, head down, eyes closed, his shoulders starting to ache but he doesn't care. He can be good. He can earn whatever Mox wants to give him.

"No wonder you're so restless all the time," Mox says conversationally, like he's talking about the weather. "You're always gagging for it, aren't you?"

He is. He nods quickly, yes, he's always desperate for it, always ready to be taken into a broom closet or bent over a dressing table and fucked, he'd let anyone Kota wants to share him with claim him. Just like he's going to let Moxley, if he earns it, he hopes.

Mox looks like he's thinking, head tilted to one side. "You need something to concentrate on," he says after a moment, and - what? Kenny  _ is _ concentrating, he's staying still and keeping his hands on the headboard like Mox said, he's concentrating on being good and -

"Not like that, love," Mox says kindly, running a hand through Kenny's hair, soothing. Kenny makes a little confused sound, still close to tears. "Just mean you need a task. Something to stop you thinking so much."

Oh. "Oh," Kenny mumbles. "Maybe." He's not sure how Mox knows what he's thinking, but he's relieved nonetheless, hopeful that Mox can quiet the whirlwind in his head.

Mox kneels on the bed, facing Kenny, and palms himself through his sweats. It sends a shock through Kenny, the sudden reminder that he might not be the only one getting off on this, and for a moment he's almost relieved that Mox really is into this, isn't doing it as a favour to him or - fuck, to Kota.

While Kenny's head is spinning with everything that means, Mox pushes his sweats down and Kenny only has time to think  _ he's not wearing underwear _ and  _ he planned for this _ before the realisation hits that he's looking at Moxley's dick. The part of him that's still rational registers, vaguely, how weird it is, but. It doesn't feel weird, having Mox in front of him and hard and right there. It's nice, in a way, to have something outside his head and Mox's voice command his attention and, yeah, he needs something to focus on.

Mox strokes himself lazily, just watching Kenny for the moment, but Kenny's pretty sure he knows what comes next. Eager to show Mox he can be good, can concentrate, Kenny opens his mouth, closes his eyes. He hears Mox's quiet huff of laughter, and there's a moment where Kenny's not sure he did the right thing, if Mox is laughing at him because he's being so bad, but then two fingers are on his tongue and pushing into his mouth, and. Now, finally, now Kenny knows what he's doing, knows he's good at it, lets Mox fuck his mouth with his fingers like he's prepping him, and, yeah, he wants that, too, wants everything he can get.

“Jesus,” Mox mumbles as he pulls his fingers from Kenny’s mouth. Kenny opens his eyes, makes a little confused sound, and Mox threads his fingers through Kenny’s hair, steadying him. “Ibushi wasn’t kidding, huh? You really are good.”

Kenny feels the flush spread down to his shoulders, feels the burst of pride threaten to overtake him. Kota said he was good.

“Yes,” Kenny murmurs, but he’s cut off as Mox pushes into his mouth. Kenny feels himself choke a little, but he doesn't want to be bad, make Mox pull back, so he breathes through it, swallows it down, relaxes to let Mox push in further.

For a moment Mox is still, hand in Kenny's hair holding him in place, and Kenny can just let himself feel. Kenny runs his tongue along the underside of Mox's cock, and the way Mox's hand tightens in his hair, almost painful but not quite, makes him look up.

"Fuck," Mox says, a strange near-reverence in his tone, brushes his thumb along Kenny's jaw, and then pushes in farther, pulls Kenny down to the hilt, until Kenny can feel his nose pressed against Mox's warm skin. "Gonna fuck your mouth. Yeah?"

Kenny makes a little sound around Mox's cock that he hopes telegraphs as a yes, runs his tongue over it again to reinforce it. It must work well enough, because after another quiet moment Mox starts in earnest, and. This is something Kenny knows he's good at, knows he loves, letting Kota (Mox, anyone) use his mouth to get off, the inescapable visceral immediacy of a cock nudging at the back of his throat, the tears pricking his eyes, half because of the strain and half because of what it means. (It means Kota knows how bad he needs it, it means Mox can see it, it means Kota told him not to hold back, fuck his mouth hard and fast and move him how you want him and god, fuck, he can almost hear Kota's voice saying it.)

Above him, Mox is making little noises, half encouraging and half desperate and despite everything, despite Mox putting him where he wants him and holding him down, it feels like a victory. Proof that he's good. Kenny's jaw already aches, but Mox isn't letting up and Kenny loves that even more, letting Mox take what he wants and give him more.

Mox pulls Kenny off for a moment, gazing down at him. Kenny can only imagine how he looks, can feel his lips red and puffy and the tears on his face and the heavy pants for breath and the ache between his shoulder blades and in his fingers reminding him how long he's been sitting like this. He leans forward a little, stretching his arms out even more, so he can lick the tip of Mox's cock, just a flick of his tongue.

That must do something for Mox, because he grabs Kenny's hair again and pulls him back down on his cock, drawing a little choked-off whimper from Kenny. Mox’s hand is rough in his hair, pulling hard enough that the pain passes the tantalising edge where it’s mostly theoretical and Kenny loves that, too, keeps making little noises around Mox’s cock as he moves how Mox pulls him.

Kenny curls his tongue again, licks along Mox’s cock in a way Kota loves, and then Mox’s hand moves to the back of his head, pushing him down hard while Mox manages a breathless warning and then suddenly, finally, Mox is coming down Kenny's throat, and - fuck, Kenny can feel himself come too, his own cock untouched and understimulated, he'd thought, but he can feel the come hit his thigh, the bedsheets,  _ fuck _ . That's. New.

Mox pulls away, chest heaving, his hand now gentle in Kenny's hair, and brushes some of the tears from Kenny's cheeks. He looks how Kenny feels, exhausted and a little shell-shocked.

"Hey," he murmurs, soft and kind. "You with me?"

Kenny blinks for a few moments, dazed, and then nods. He's here with Mox. While he's gazing at Mox's face, half-studying the way his jaw moves, Mox runs his strong, capable hands along Kenny's arms, soothing, until he reaches his hands, still maintaining their death grip on the headboard.

"Can let go now, Kenny," Mox says, sounds a little amused, a little impressed. Kenny's not sure why Mox would be impressed - all he did was hold on - but it makes him feel warm nonetheless as he lets go of the headboard, takes the deep breath he couldn't quite manage stretched out like he was. As Kenny starts to move his fingers, try to work out the cramp, Mox nods approvingly but stops him, hands over Kenny's.

"Let me," he says quietly, and then, gentle but confident, starts to massage Kenny's hands. Kenny hardly has time to register that - that Mox knows how to do this, rubbing small circles with his thumbs over Kenny's knuckles, between the bones, down to his wrist, calm and calculated and perfect to loosen his hands up, before Mox continues, "You deserve a reward for being so good."

“Me?” Kenny mumbles, the compliment filling him with warmth as Mox continues to soothe his aching hands. The little aches and discomforts that he’d forgotten in his focus on being good are making themselves known, now, his back and legs aching like his hands, the come drying sticky on his thigh, his lips chapped and rubbed raw.

“Yeah, love, you did perfect,” Mox murmurs. He lets go of Kenny’s hands and helps him lay down, carefully, on his back, take the pressure off his legs, and Kenny makes a little noise of gratitude. Mox brushes his hair from his face and then looks him over, less like he’s assessing him, now, more measured. “I’m just gonna get something to clean us up, okay?”

Kenny nods, wraps an arm around the pillow, watches Mox slip into the bathroom. He's trying not to think about the - the enormity of it all, doing this with someone else, letting not Kota take the reins. Even with his permission it feels too big for Kenny, somehow precarious even though Mox's presence has never felt steadier than it does now. Kenny knows all too well the consequences of giving the wrong opponent this side of him, baring his weaknesses and trusting that they won't be used against him, but. But if Kota trusts him Kenny trusts him, and it's too much to think that Kota could be mistaken, like this, about this.

He's stopped mid-thought by Mox's return, padding out of the bathroom holding two washcloths. He sits next to Kenny, gently washes the sticky residue off his thighs, his belly, and when Kenny makes a little noise of thanks he smiles.

"Hi," Kenny mumbles, a little shy, his voice raspy and raw.

Mox chuckles. "Hey, Kenny. Feel okay?"

"Yes. Good. Really good." He pauses, feeling braver. "I was scared. That you wouldn't come back."

"I was only in the bathroom..." Mox frowns, kisses Kenny's forehead. "I'm sorry. I wouldn't leave you like this. Back now, yeah?"

Kenny nods. He's back now, he's looking after him. Kota probably told him how, told him Kenny doesn't like being sticky, that he needs a while to just lay before he's ready to be a person again.

"I miss Kota," he says quietly, the heartache hitting him harder now that his head is quiet. He really fucking misses Kota.

Mox smiles a little before he sits up. "Can you sit up, love? Against the headboard?"

At Mox's gentle prodding, Kenny pushes himself up. Once he's still again, Mox holds an open water bottle out to him. "Drink some, yeah? Small sips."

Kenny nods and takes a few small sips of water. Mox is doing something on his phone, but Kenny doesn't mind, as long as he's here with him. When he feels a little more outgoing, he thinks, he'll prod Mox about it. For now he's happy to drink his water and sit quietly.

Another few moments pass, Mox still on his phone, and it turns out Kenny doesn't have to prod Mox, because he's holding his phone out with a smile. "Say hi," he instructs.

Kenny takes the phone, a little confused until he looks at the name on the call screen: Ibushi. His delighted gasp would be pathetic if he wasn't certain Kota's just as happy to hear from him.

"Ibutan," he says, smiling wide. It's been so long since he's heard Kota's voice.

"Hi, angel," Kota says, from half a world away, and Kenny can hear the answering smile in his voice, familiar and sweet. Kenny hardly has to think about the switch from English to Japanese. "I love you. I miss you. Did Mox take good care of you?"

"I love you too," Kenny returns. "I miss you more than anything. He helped a lot." He glances at Mox, blushing a bit, but Mox doesn't look like he minds, just opens his arms for Kenny to cling on.

Here, with Mox's arms around him and Kota's voice the only sound echoing in his head, Kenny feels like he finally has an anchor.

*

It's a few days later, after the show. Kenny was on fire, he could feel it in his laser focus, the way everything faded but the ring, the lights, the show. It feels like his body is calmer, too, somehow, like he's less erratic now that he's had the chance to get out of his head. He knows the others saw it, too, in their wide eyes and surprised grins, and the way everyone was quick to clap his back when he walked backstage.

Everyone sees it, apparently, except the Bucks. It's been a few hours now and the adrenaline has faded, leaving them all exhausted and slumped in the dressing room couches. It's been easy, the way hanging with the Bucks usually is, but Kenny can tell there's something nagging at them.

"Are you good, man?" Matt asks after a lull in conversation. He sounds almost aggressive in his concern. "You're all, like. Weird today."

"Quiet," Nick supplies. "You're never quiet, you know? But you were quiet today."

Kenny can't help but laugh, because of course, of all his friends, of course the Bucks are the ones to have it completely backwards.

"I'm good." He grins at their poor confused faces. "I'm better than I've been in a long time."

**Author's Note:**

> thank u for reading my horny kenny fic & welcome to the sub kenny extended universe (skeu)


End file.
